Demon Angel

by Meljean Brook

  Most demons were.

  “I have to, Hugh.”

  He nodded slowly, his gaze intense upon her face. He’d tucked his thumbs into his pockets, hunching his shoulders defensively.

  Standing in the middle of that near-empty room, he looked incredibly alone.

  But not lost.

  Lilith averted her eyes. “Goddamn it all,” she whispered, and streaked up the stairs before she could do something foolish.

  Like follow her heart.

  Colin Ames-Beaumont raised his glass, drank deeply of the crimson liquid. He tried not to grimace at the lack of taste—pig’s blood. While satisfying on a basic level, it did not assuage that deeper thirst or slide like liquid lightning across his tongue.

  He set the tumbler on a side table, briefly considering changing his glassware to stemware; drinking blood from wineglasses was much more dramatic, elegant.

  Apparently Lilith thought so, too.

  “You have no style, Colin,” she announced from the French doors that opened to the balcony. She didn’t bother to ask permission to enter, but crossed the room, throwing herself face-down onto a striped damask sofa.

  He raked his gaze over her, his expression amused. “You have more than enough for the both of us, my dear,” he said.

  She turned her head toward him and smiled; no humor touched her eyes. “I was hoping you would notice.”

  He’d have to be blind not to notice. And, notwithstanding his long, platonic friendship with her, he couldn’t help but appreciate the brief sight of her sweetly rounded bottom encased in the black leather before she settled her wings against her back, hiding the view.

  “If it was up to you,” Colin said, settling himself into an adjoining chair, “I’d skulk around the house wearing a tuxedo and cape.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t have to skulk. Lurking would be accept—”

  She broke off as a black form silently streaked past Colin’s chair, almost knocking it over. He righted it just as the huge dog launched itself onto the sofa, whining and barking and wriggling. Colin couldn’t see how she wasn’t squashed beneath the hellhound’s bulk, but Lilith laughed and kissed each of the dog’s three noses, patting and rubbing the three enormous heads. She didn’t seem to care that the thing was as big as a Bengal tiger, or that a flash of its teeth could make a nosferatu flee in terror. Its tail wagged with barely restrained joy, and its tongues slobbered over her neck and face in desperate welcome.

  Colin shivered. Though he’d taken care of the hellhound for the past six months, and many times before that, it’d usually adopted the guise of a Labrador retriever. Its true form was . . . disturbing, even to a vampire as old as he was.

  Still laughing, Lilith gently pushed the dog to the floor. “Lie still, now.” It complied, and she turned back over, raising her head and resting her chin on one hand so she could see Colin, her other hand trailing over the side and resting on Sir Pup’s shoulder. She shifted as she tried to find a comfortable position with the bulk of her left wing pressed tightly against the back of the sofa. After a moment, she gave up, simply making the wings disappear.

  Colin would have made the attempt to view her bottom again, but with her torso elevated he had a glimpse of her cleavage which he was determined to enjoy.

  He didn’t leave the house often anymore—not when he could sense so many nosferatu in the city. They’d curtailed his nighttime activities to the extent that he was reduced to drinking animal blood.

  They deserved to die for that alone.

  “Did you see He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?”

  Her eyes glowed red for a moment. She stood up, walking over to the window and looking out. The hellhound stuck close to her heels, tongues lolling. Colin waited, knowing she’d speak when she was ready.

  “Yes,” she said finally. She rested her hand on the leaded glass pane, her nails tapping lightly.

  “Did you reprise the sword fights of old?”

  “No,” she said, giving him a reproachful look. “He’s just a human.”

  Colin quirked an eyebrow. “That only explains why you can’t kill him. Those ridiculous ‘thou-shall-not-kill-or-eat-or-maim-humans’ rules that you demons follow for some reason. But just because you are stronger, faster, have the ability to fly and can shape-shift doesn’t automatically suggest victory over a well-trained human. Surely you remember what my sister did to the nosferatu who transformed me, and Emily was ‘just a human.’ ”

  “She also had Michael’s sword,” she said with a slight scowl, and Colin bit back his laughter. Lilith had never liked Emily, thought of her as a spoiled aristocrat with her head in the clouds. She turned back to him. “You’re envious of my power, admit it.”

  “You possess only two more abilities than I do; I’ve strength and speed, and I don’t see the need for the rest.” Then he had to admit, “Well, perhaps flying—but not shifting. I have no wish to take on the form of a bat.” Or upset the perfect composition of his features.

  She rolled her eyes. “You’ve been watching far too much television. We can’t transform into animals. Although, it would be entertaining to see you flapping around outside a window.”

  “It would shrink important parts of my anatomy to the size of a pin,” he said, shuddering.

  Lilith smiled, resting her hip on the windowsill. “And when was the last time you used that part of your anatomy?” she taunted.

  Almost twenty-five days—yet another reason to slaughter the nosferatu. Colin stood and moved to the sideboard, refilling his glass. “More recently than you have.”

  “I’ve never used yours.” Her gaze narrowed on the tumbler in his hand as he took a sip. “Animal blood; how long have you been drinking it?”

  “The better part of this month.”

  Her focus shifted; she studied his length, and a brief psychic touch flitted over his mind. Colin didn’t argue; admiration undoubtedly accompanied her exterior examination, and he rather liked it when she looked. When anyone looked.

  It was unfortunate he could not.

  “No tremors,” she said finally. “And you’ve not yet descended into drooling stupidity. What is the other effect of prolonged pig-sucking?” Her eyes widened in mock surprise. “Ah, yes . . . no sexual drive. Want to see if that vital part of your anatomy still works? Tonight, with me?”

  He choked on a mouthful of blood; Lilith burst into laughter. When his coughing fit subsided, he gave her an admonishing stare. “Bloody hell. You did that on purpose,” he said.

  “Maybe,” she said, her dark irises sparkling with amusement. She tilted her head, resting it against the windowpane as she regarded him. “Did I scare you?”

  “Good God, the very thought inspires fear enough to shrivel me permanently.” He paused, realizing that she had neatly turned the conversation away from her encounter with Hugh. “And I suppose I would just be a substitute for him.”

  Colin knew it was a testament to the strength of their friendship that she didn’t tear his head off for daring to suggest such a thing.

  “I’m not an idiot,” Lilith said flatly. She didn’t move from her place at the window, but her fingers clenched into fists. “I paid for my weakness once before, and no human is worth two Punishments.”

  “But he was worth one?” He couldn’t resist asking.

  “Colin . . .” she began warningly, then paused. On the floor, Sir Pup growled low in his throat. Lilith cocked her head to the side, as if listening; standing slowly, she put a finger to her full lips, gesturing for Colin to remain silent. Mischief lit her face.

  Whomever she’d heard probably had no idea of the trouble he was in.

  “You vampires,” she said loudly, “don’t know the joy of destroying lives.”

  Playing along, he said, “I’ve ripped out a few throats in my time.” He watched as she moved quietly toward the balcony doors, which had been left open after her entrance. A sword appeared in her left hand, a length of metal chain in her right. Wings sprouted between her shoulder blades. />
  He pursed his lips in silent envy.

  “Throats?” Lilith forced a laugh, gazing intently outside. “You’ve got to go for the balls to really do some damage.”

  “It’s not as easy to drink the blood . . . there . . .” He trailed off when she and the dog disappeared. The crash of the French doors swinging against the wall signaled the force with which she’d opened them. He winced, mentally tallying up the cost of glass replacement for each shattered pane.

  A heavy thud against the roof rattled the chandelier. Colin eyed the swaying crystals, willing it not to fall. The house shook as something slammed into the side. A car alarm from across the street began blaring, followed by the crunch of metal. The alarm stopped.

  Moments later, a grinning Lilith hauled an unconscious Guardian onto his balcony, dragging her through shards of glass as she pulled the mass of white feathers and golden flesh inside.

  Colin rolled his eyes heavenward and sighed. Surely nothing good would come of this.

  Lilith crouched next to the Guardian, reaching down and lifting the head by the tangle of blond hair to look at her face. “Selah. I thought so.” She chuckled, and glanced up at Colin. Her tone was playful—and wicked. “So, Colin . . . do you want a pet?”

  The Guardian’s neck was long; the skin, smooth and unblemished. He touched his tongue to the tips of his fangs; the bloodlust was slow to respond. “Does Guardian taste better than pig?”

  Lilith grimaced, wrapping the chain around the Guardian’s wrists. “I’m not likely to ever try either. And you’re a freak, even for a vampire; so for all I know, their blood will kill you.” She glanced at Colin, raked her gaze up and down his body. “Only one way to find out.”

  CHAPTER 16

  “Are you certain this will hold her?”

  With a practiced eye, Lilith studied the chains and manacles, gauged the strength of the bedposts and the padlocks. “No.”

  Selah still hadn’t regained consciousness. She lay on Colin’s bed, arms stretched above her head. The puncture wounds in her neck had already healed over. Lilith hadn’t watched Colin feed, but of course it hadn’t hurt him. She’d known that very well, yet it had been entertaining to watch him waver between the desire for living blood and the uncertainty of its effect.

  He must have realized she was lying, however; he wasn’t inclined to risking himself. He might have guessed she wasn’t inclined to risking him, either—but after his comment regarding her Punishment, she hadn’t been above punishing him a little in turn.

  His skin was flushed with Guardian blood—or anger. If it was anger, it wasn’t very potent; he was shaking his head in exasperation, but a smile tugged at his mouth.

  “You are a bitch, Lilith.”

  She patted his cheek as she passed him. “You adore me. And Sir Pup will watch her until daybreak. I need him for something else then.” The hellhound gave an inquiring whine; Lilith glanced at him and shook her head. “You can’t eat her. We may need her later. No. Not even one bite.” She grinned at Colin, whose face had paled. “Obedience training. I don’t want him to forget he can’t eat human-shaped things while he’s on Earth.”

  She heard the vampire choking as he followed her downstairs, and she wondered if he was upset over the thought of sharing a meal with a dog, or just squeamish.

  Probably squeamish. He’d been a terrible fop when she’d first met him; that hadn’t completely changed. He was also incredibly tightfisted. He wouldn’t relish the idea of all that gore in his expensive and tastefully appointed bedroom.

  As she had no intention of letting Selah die—not when the Guardian could be so useful—Colin needn’t have worried.

  Not that she would tell him that. She enjoyed unsettling him; it kept their friendship interesting.

  “I must confess I’m pleased he remembered that while you were gone,” Colin said as they entered his study. “As I happen to be a human-shaped thing.”

  “A very nicely human-shaped thing,” she agreed.

  He sighed, and it was more amused than harassed. “You want something.”

  “I do,” she said, but needed to gather her thoughts before she could fully articulate it.

  The fight with the Guardian had restored most of her good humor, but more importantly, cleared her mind. She couldn’t think around Hugh, hadn’t been able to feel anything past the ache and frustration rioting within her.

  And she found it ridiculously hard to lie to him; for a demon, whose life was based on lies, it meant he brought out the worst in her. Her lips curved. She had to admit she liked the irony of the worst in her being what a normal human would consider good.

  Lucifer, she was sure, would not be amused. Nor would he approve of what she was about to do—but he wouldn’t have to know.

  She strolled over to the fireplace, examining the painting hanging above the mantel. A life-sized self-portrait: Colin’s gray eyes stared back at her, his blond hair in a slick, old-fashioned style. He’d painted himself in modern clothing this time—an elegant silk shirt and pants, much like his current attire.

  “Your nose is slightly off; it’s a bit longer.”

  Coming to stand beside her, the vampire looked up and self-consciously touched the tip of his nose. “What about the rest?”

  “Your hair.” Lilith tilted her head, studying the original. It was softer without the heavy pomade. “The color is right, though.”

  He nodded. “I cut off a piece to be certain.”

  She glanced back up. In that moment, the face on the canvas seemed harder, less vulnerable than the vampire beside her. Colin would not appreciate that observation, however. “You knew John Polidori.”

  His brows rose. “Yes.”

  “Do you still have any of his letters in your possession?”

  “Yes.” He watched her, his expression curious.

  She took a deep breath. “How do you feel about forgery?”

  “Artistic, carefully orchestrated forgery? Or just your run-of-the-mill check-cashing scheme?”

  Snobbery, even in this. Lilith blinked, keeping a tight rein on her laughter. “Artistic. Of a sort.”

  “I wholeheartedly support it—out of necessity if nothing else,” he said. “It’s difficult to get through two hundred years without mastering the art of falsifying documents.”

  Frowning, she said, “I have.”

  “Difficult to pass as a human for two hundred years without mastering it,” he amended with a smile. Then he said, slightly horrified, “What are you doing?”

  She quickly unlaced her corset, let it drop to the floor. With barely a thought, she stripped off her glamours, stood before him naked from the waist up.

  His gaze was riveted on her shoulders. “What are those?”

  She didn’t glance down at her arms, her chest. As plans went, it wasn’t a very good one. A distraction, really, and an opportunity to use the little power she owned in this human world.

  “A way to make life a bit more interesting for the SFPD,” she said.

  At six, Hugh left Savi sleeping on the sofa, snoring into a pillow she’d brought from her room.

  And ran.

  An hour before, two officers had relieved the pair who’d sat through the night. If Hugh had been less tired, if the memory of Lilith’s stricken face and Savi’s red-rimmed eyes had been less immediate, he might have taken pity on them.

  It was petty and unsatisfying, but still he veered away from the roadway circling through the park, where the cruiser had followed him at a discreet distance. Smiled as he heard the car doors slam, and the pounding of stiff-soled shoes on the wet grass. The officers were young and athletic, but couldn’t possibly keep up with him.

  Rose and gold streaked the lightening sky, the chilled air was heavy with the odors of the lakes, birds filled the park with their chirping; Hugh kept his eyes on the ground in front of him and pushed himself hard. Twice he had to stop and run in place, waiting for the officers to draw close enough to stay within sight—no sense in taking his
pettiness to a degree that seemed evasive—but it was several miles before he noticed the dog.

  He loped along about fifteen yards to Hugh’s left, keeping pace without effort. Though shaped like a domesticated breed, he was as large as the wolves that had once roamed the medieval forests. San Francisco had strict leash laws and he wore no collar, but he looked too healthy and well-fed to be a stray. Sleek black fur covered rippling muscles, and his eyes shone brightly in the pale morning light.

  Perhaps too brightly. Uneasily, Hugh cast another glance to the side; the dog turned his head and seemed to grin.

  Colin had said a dog was protecting him. Hugh had thought it a joke, but now he wasn’t certain.

  Hugh eased down to a jog, and the length of the dog’s stride shifted. Then, as if his legs were too long for such a slow gait, he transformed until he was only a few inches taller than the average retriever.

  Hugh stopped beside a tree and braced his hand against the trunk, then doubled over and laughed until his stomach ached.

  Eventually, a quiet growl brought him to his senses. The short hairs on the back of the dog’s neck were raised, and his gaze was fixed on the approaching officers.

  “They’re no threat,” Hugh murmured, and he wasn’t surprised when the dog relaxed, lying down with his muzzle on his front paws. “Are you Colin’s?”

  The dog shook his head, his ears flapping wildly.

  “Lilith’s.”

  Canine lips stretched back, as if in another grin.

  “Everything all right, Castleford?”

  Both men were flushed and winded, but neither showed any signs of temper. The younger one, Hugh judged, couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than Savi.

  “Everything’s fine,” he said. “Just a stitch. I’ll take it easier on the way back.”

  The older one sighed with relief. “We’d be grateful.”

  “We’d also be grateful if you ran by a coffee shop on the way back,” the other added with a grin. “We weren’t expecting a morning run, and we’d like to refuel.”